Never trust those who are never truthful - (Sherlock x Reader)
by watsonholmie
Summary: You've become flat mates with the infamous Sherlock Holmes, and this is the story of the adventures you have, not all of them good. But Sherlock has to remember, he shouldn't trust every individual he comes across as not everyone is as truthful as him as John is. Post His Last Vow.
1. Chapter 1 - Finding a new flat mate

Deep breaths, deep breaths, you thought as you were about to knock on the door of hopefully would be your new home. Hopefully. I say hopefully because the ad wasn't at all welcoming and you had to be simply mad to think otherwise. Surely this person couldn't be serious? "I don't eat and sleep for says on end." Were they anorexic? Or did they have severe insomnia? You honestly didn't know but you decided that you could bear with violin playing in the middle of the night if you only had to pay half the rent for such a lovely apartment such as this.

"Knock, knock, knock," you practically slammed the door knocker down on the door. The doorbell seemed to be ripped off of the wall beside you so you felt that the door knocker would be the next best option. It wasn't long until a lovely old woman opened the door to you, you assumed that this was the one that placed the advertisement for the room.

"Hello, I'm here to inquire about the flat share?" You asked politely, holding out a hand for her to shake, "my name is _ _ by the way."

"Mrs Hudson," the woman replied, "and yes, if you'd like to make your way upstairs I'm sure Sherlock would be happy to fill you in on the details." She opened the door wider and you stepped in, "first floor derie, right up there."

"Right, yes," you said, trying to keep your composure, you didn't usually get nervous from meetings such as these, you've had many in the past and yet, it seemed different somehow. You shrugged it off and twisted the door handle to reveal a very lived in living room with a, what seemed to be, kitchen with experiments all over the table.

"Hello?" You called out, your voice echoing in the almost empty apartment, "I'm here about the ad for a flat mate, is anyone there?"

You heard a klunk and then a couple of thumps before the far door opened to reveal a man in a white sheet looking very ruffled and sleepy."Good morning," he murmured as he went to make a cup of tea, "would you like a drink?"

"Ah, uh...yes, yes please..." You trailed off, a little shocked by the sight before you, he on the other hand seemed completely relaxed as if this were typically normal for people you've just met.

The kettle boiled after a few moments of a very very awkward silence, for you at least, you weren't entirely sure if the man in front of you was all there or not. He proceeded to pour two cups of tea with milk, "sugar?"

"Ah no, thank you very much," you said as he proceeded to nearly pile the whole packet of sugar into his own cup.

"Sit down," he directed finally looking up to see you, "I'll get dressed."

You obeyed quickly going to sit in the very comfy looking chair that was opposite the window and another less comfy looking other chair with a violin upon it. "Well that explains the violin warning," you said quietly as you saw that this instrument was very very well played but not at all in bad shape, it seemed to also be very well looked after. You took a sip of your tea quietly, inspecting the apartment with a little more detail, there was a smiley face spray painted on one wall with bullet holes in it, next to that seemed to be notes, papers and pictures all stuck together. You stood up to have a look a little more closely. It looked like someone was investigating a crime.

"Consulting detective," you heard from a voice behind you. You turned on your heel to find what you thought was the same man as before but you couldn't be exactly sure. He seemed so smart and, well...clean now. It wasn't until the that you registered that he had started to speak again, "I'm a consulting detective, only one in the world," he looked at your confused expression and started to explain, little did he know that your expression wasn't about his job but more rather about him, "it means that when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me and get me to solve their cases for them. Sometimes I take on cases without their input though, people come to me before the police often." He paused and looked over to you as he was now standing on the back of the sofa, scanning the case he was currently working on, "why are you wearing that expression?"

It was then that you realised that your mouth was open and you were a matter of fact staring, "sorry, I just...I'm not used to people talking to me so casually," you said in awe.

"And why is that?" His eyes narrowed as if he were trying to figure you out, like a puzzle but couldn't quite get the pieces to fit.

"No reason," you said abruptly, you nearly let that one slip, you would have. To be much much more careful next time if you wanted a normal life, one away from work this time.

"Hmmm, so..." He said turning back to the wall, his eyes darting about the place, "what about it?"

"What about what?" You asked, still dazed and a little forgetful.

He turned to you again but this time stepping off the sofa completely to tower over you, well not that much, he seemed to look taller further away, "would you like to be my flat mate?"

"I...uh...um, I don't even know your name!" You said suddenly, surely you would have to introduce each other before you started living together.

"Neither do I know yours, the name is Sherlock Holmes. And yours...?" He raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for you to reply.

"Oh, um, _ _," you said hurriedly.

"I assume it's a yes then."

"Yes."

"See you tomorrow then, move in as soon as possible. It so we can pay our rent to Mrs Hudson on time, is that good for you?"

"Ah yes, I'll see you then," you said before setting your now cold tea on the coffee table, "goodbye Mr Holmes." And with that, you left.

"Strange," he thought after he heard the front door click behind you, "why couldn't I read anything from them?" He brushed it off for later and continued to work.


	2. Chapter 2 - Unpacking and First meetings

Moving in was easy enough, easy enough when you tried to forget how stressful it was. The stress was ultimately added to by your roommate who hardly approved of anything you brought through the door, even a pair of fluffy socks didn't meet his irrationally high standards! You tell this would be a very long day and would most likely end up with most of your things either in the bin or hidden out of sight as not to irritate the oh so high and mighty Sherlock Holmes. You swear he had in for you even though you had only met him yesterday, he seemed adamant in putting you off. You were stubborn however and were very adaptable, especially to arsehole-ish characters such as him. You had dealt with a few people like this in the past and you surprising could put up with them rather easily.

He was frowning currently at a box of yours with a lamp sticking out at a very awkward angle which it had not been doing five minutes ago before he turned his attention to it. You felt that if he were tested his maturity age would be that of a three year old, considering his actions recently this seemed very very accurate. At that moment he picked up the aforementioned lamp and threw it across the room.

"HEY! What was that for?" You said in half surprise, half anger.

"I wanted to see if it was durable enough to live here," he said still staring at the point on the wall it had hit, after a pause he walked over to the now destroyed lamp and picked up the pieces gingerly, "evidently not."

You sighed deeply, pinched the bridge of your nose and walked back down the corridor to the bathroom. Without another word you locked the door and sat down on the toilet seat, deep breaths...deep breaths...deep breaths...

You always had to remind yourself to clam down before something bad happened and you lost control. It was always situations like this that set you off, and when something like that happened you couldn't see past the hot rage that controlled your actions format here on in. Last time that happened five people were found dead and you were long gone. I'm not going to let this consume me again, you thought, this is the one thing I will resist, I will not kill again. That is in the past, I am not that person anymore.

"_?" You heard a voice of the source of irritation outside of the door, "are you okay?" He sounded concerned, or as close to concern the consulting detecting could come.

Much better now that you're out there and I'm in here, you thought bitterly but the sentence that exited your mouth somewhat differed to your mental voice, "I'm fine, just on the loo you know?"

"Oh, okay. I'll leave you to it then," he said, he sounded a little embarrassed admittedly but you tried to brush it off as he padded back down the corridor, surely going to destroy yet more of your possessions because they don't meet his specifications.

You unlocked the door after another ten minutes of trying to forget the stressful thoughts that - for some reason - would not leave your head. You entered the living room and looked around suspiciously, it seemed that the detective had left alone the rest of your belongings, (odd) and had sulked off to his room. A walk would calm you down you mused as you decided to put your coat scarf and shoes on.

Just about to put your hand on the doorknob someone darted in between you and the door, "leaving so soon? I thought you had just started to unpack?" The sarcasm was just dripping form his voice, it almost made you sick.

"I thought that a walk would help me to keep my mind off of the stress of moving house," you said truthfully, finally looking up to meet the grey calculating eyes who were - you guessed - judging you belong belief.

"And what good would that do you? John and Mary have just arrived, and you were about to miss the introductions, and that wouldn't be very good would it? Seeing as you would be the person that they were supposed to be having introductions with," he cocked an eyebrow, still blocking the door in the most frustrating fashion. This was because as soon as your tried to dodge out of the way and grab the handle, he seemed to see what you were about to do miles away and blocked the way yet again with his torso.

His little speech made you pause however, "who's John and Mary?" It seemed you were the only one who had been kept out of the loop for this arrangement as you heard two pairs of footsteps climbing up the stairs. You stepped back reluctantly, letting Sherlock open the door for the two people. Before he did so however he whispered, "at least let me introduce you, you can then escape for as long as you like." It seemed fair enough as a deal so you nodded your head just as the two people, supposedly John and Mary, stepped into the room.

You froze, no, you thought, no this can't be, she's...she's dead...

"Hello!" The cheerful man in front of you said, snapping you back to the moment at hand. Your mask was on now, business could continue later, "you must be _, pleasure to meet you," he held out a hand for you to shake, you mirrored the action and smiled sweetly.

"You too," your eyes glanced over to the woman next to him, you mask still on, "and of course, you must be Mary, correct?"

"Oh yes!" You saw her right eye twitch slightly, hardly anything but you noticed it, she was lying, "nice to meet you as well, Sherlock wouldn't shut up about you on the phone last night!"

Your eyes then shifted over to man who hadn't said anything since the couple before you had walked in. You raised and eyebrows and smirked a little, the detective was blushing slightly, a rose tint to his cheeks, "Is that so?"

This should be interesting...


	3. Chapter 3 - Mornings and Suspicion

It had been a week or so from the meeting of the Watson's and you thought that it went quite well, disregarding the fact that you thought you'd murdered one of them years ago of course. Not only that but you had started to settle in quite well. Of course there were those moments of madness from your roommate but you seemed to be becoming accustomed to them by now. You always seemed very adaptable to new environments. It was in your job description of course so it was compulsory but you prided yourself on it nonetheless. It did seem to be your speciality.

You had just finished your breakfast when you heard a loud clunk come from down the corridor. It seemed to come from Sherlock's room. Odd, you thought, I heard him exit the apartment last night. You weren't actually supposed to know this of course. You were actually the very reason he had gone out at all last night. He would never tell you that, he was too proud but he had started to take an interest in you and where you came from. However it would ruin his reputation if he told you any of that.

You tiptoed quietly down the corridor to the door that belonged to your roommate and had been shut tight since three days ago. You slunk like a cat, knife in hand (from the knife block of course, you didn't have time to get one of your own personal ones, they were in your room after all), and were ready to pounce. It was the next thing that took you aback a little, the door opened. It revealed a -well what seemed to be anyway- very sleepy Sherlock Holmes.

"Good morning," he said rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them, "I'd appreciate it if you would put that knife down, not exactly the welcome I was expecting." His eyes now open, he looked at you fully, his pyjama top was inside out and his hair was all mussed up but you had to admit, he looked rather adorable.

"Ah- oh yes," your instincts immediately turned off, "sorry about that, I thought you were an intruder." You managed to stutter out, trying to abruptly turn back into the roommate he was used to.

"Why would you think that?" He looked at you curiously, he brows knitted together in confusion. You thought he was known to be able to deduce things at that drop of the hat so it confused you a little to hear him this questioning. Surely he knew why you'd think something like that! Unless he had trouble deducing after he had just woken up.

You replied anyway, not wanting to make it seem suspicious, "well...I heard you go out last night and I didn't hear you come back in so I was wondering who it was as I assumed you weren't home."

"You were up at 2?" His expression still the same but he looked a little skeptical about your story.

"I have an odd sleeping pattern and plus I was writing last night," you quickly blabbered out. You hoped he still bought the story of you being an aspiring writer who had recently moved to London to hopefully get published and be an international writer. He originally scoffed at the idea of you being a writer but stopped himself quickly as he realised that you were being serious. Or as serious as your acting could get.

"Oh right, well, morning," he said quickly before quite rudely shoving past you and going to boil the kettle for his morning coffee. What his state of sleepiness didn't explain however was why you hadn't heard him come back in, unless he too was also acting.

"Excuse you too," you muttered as you followed him into the kitchen, not bothering to act like your 'normal self' when his back was turned. You went to put the knife back in the knife block when he turned to speak to you.

"I don't believe you, you know," he took a sip of his newly brewed coffee as he had taken the water from the kettle you had boiled for your tea, the bastard.

"What, why?" Your eyes narrowed, letting your mask slip a little.

"I don't know why but something about your story doesn't make sense, even it can make that much out when I can't even deduce a bloody thing about you," he said the last bit quietly, as if he didn't really want you to hear his confession.

You shuffled from one foot to the other awkwardly, you hoped he hadn't seen through you. That would be the last thing you wanted, he took your awkwardness as an indication that he was right. That much at least was true, you just hoped he hadn't deciphered the rest. If he had, your cover would be blown and your mission would be over. You prayed beyond belief that that wouldn't happen. You loved a good meaty mission with interesting characters.

"You're not a writer are you?" He set his drink aside to focus his full attention on you. His suspicion seemed to be rising.

"No...I-I..." You stuttered. Panicking your mind screamed, Quick think of something! You have to think of something! He'll see right through you! Now! Do it now! "I'm here to see family but I thought that might be a bit pathetic seeing as I'm visiting for such a long time that I've decided to rent a flat out." You rambled, he didn't look convinced so you continued, "My Mother's ill, very ill. She has pancreatic cancer..." You trailed off, looking at your feet in defeat. You hoped that he understood the sob story, you even expected a little sympathy, as if!

He seemed to accept that as a good answer and cleared his throat as to change subjects, "right well, now that we have that covered, I did originally want to ask you something." He picked up his coffee again, his blue eyes still piercing, analysing you. Or at least attempting to.

This caught your attention a bit but you didn't want to make it seem so. You turned and decided to wash up your plates from breakfast, just so you seemed as if you hadn't a care in the world, that seemed to be the best option. Eye contact was never your strong suit in situations like this so this was the next best thing. You weren't really sure what you were supposed to be acting like anymore. Your character had lost all linear normality but you just decided to go with it, he anyway seemed to be going with it, "go on."

"Would you like to come on a case with me?" He said it so outright that it caught you a little off guard, why would a consulting detective need help from someone like you? To him you were sure you seemed uncharacteristic, boring and bland. That seemed enough to put anyone off getting to know you, that why you had decided on this plain jane character. So no one would ask questions and forget about you quickly.

"Why? Surely I wouldn't be of any help?" You turned to face him now, a questioning look in your eyes. You wanted to seem as natural as possible, if that was even able to do with that glare of his looking you down harshly.

"It's just nice to have company on a case, good at solving crimes or not, it'd be nice to have you along. Not to mention that the only thing you do all day is laze about and visit family, I think it'd be good for you." He said truthfully. He was however wrong about one tiny little detail, you never stayed at the flat for more than an hour. You would never tell him that of course but you thanked the heavens that he didn't seem to be that suspicious of you anymore. If he still was then you'd have to report your situation and you'd be moved out. Boring.

"I...uh, sure! I mean what have I got to lose!" And within the hour, you and Sherlock Holmes were out of the door ready and prepared to see dead bodies. Sounds like another normal day in London, well for the consulting detective at least.


	4. Chapter 4 - Murderer?

It wasn't that you didn't like dead bodies, well I mean who would? It was just, a little odd seeing them again. After so long of leaving them behind.

This is what you felt when you arrived on the crime scene. Your stomache churned, you weren't sure if it were nerves or something else but you had never been too fond of the sensation and it certainly wasn't helping the situation at hand. You had to keep your cool, look unbothered. Just so the man next to you wouldn't 1. suspect anything or 2. think you were weird. You were more worried about the latter as you were intrigued about these sorts of things, what it was like on the other side of a crime. What it was like to figure out how someone's mind works from facts of the past.

These thoughts had made you have an unnaturally happy smile on your face, it was so exciting. But at the same time you bashed yourself for looking so goofy when you were trying to look normal. You'd never done anything like this before so what did people expect? New experiences were something to look forward to, unless they were meeting a new teacher or boss. Those experiences were never pleasant, but other than that you were pretty sure that new things were fun. So it still puzzled you why all of the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't settle. Surely you shouldn't be so nervous about something so mundane, but then again it could just be excitement. You decided to put those thoughts aside and actually try and retain some information from the ever so silent consulting detective beside you, it seemed the best way to break the ice, asking about the case, it seemed on topic which was good at least.

"So what crime are we going to investigate?" You asked, turning to him as you walked down a street. It was still dark outside so his height silhouetted him in the street lights but you could still see the cheekbones that defined his face so nicely.

"A murder." He stated simply, not bothering to look down the couple of inches between you and him in height as he kept staring staight ahead as he walked. He was overly aware however of your presence next to him. It seemed that having you and not John as a roommate was having an odd affect on him. He couldn't simply walk into your room like he could John or use the bathroom when you were having a shower. It obviously wasn't normal to walk in on your roommate doing things, gender disregarded. However Sherlock felt that because you were a woman you deserved a lot more privacy, even he felt that something so stupid as privacy shouldn't exist. This concequently had made him all the more curious as to what you were _doing_ when you were in the bathroom or bedroom. He didn't exactly want to immediately assume things but you did make a lot of noise when you were alone so his mind coudn't help but jump to conclusions. This made him blush a little at the thought and he was now thankful for the fact that you had turned away from looking at him, it stopped a lot of questions being asked if you were actually looking at him. That would be a minor inconvenience as he wasn't entirely sure if he'd be abe to keep his mouth shut from asking questions about your actions on your own.

It was at that moment that you both had finally arrived at the crime scene which welcomed you with a very sour faced looking Donovan judging you both very harshly with her brown eyes. Sherlock knew it was because of him and being a 'freak' but you on the other hand thought that she had something against you personally. Your eyes squinted at her and your jaw set, "Have you got a problem?"

She ignored you and turned to the man beside you, holding her walkie talkie up, "Sir? He's here," her eyes then flicked to you, with even more disgust in her them than before, "and it seems he has a new mouthy little assistant. Do you want me to send them in?" She waited for the reply, nodded and lifted the tape, "nice to see you too, freak." She called after you both, your fists clenched. How dare she talk like-

"There's no need to get so angry," his voice cut off your thoughts, instantly calming you down, "she was talking about me." It was that last sentence that hit you. Hard. It kind of knocked you back a little at how his words were so solemn and yet they seemed as if he'd used that sentence so much in his life that they seemed overused to him. It then hit you, he was bullied in his past. Badly. You felt like you should say something at least, just so he knew that you were there for him.

"Don't," he stopped your thoughts again, it was as if he could read you like an open book and yet at other times it was if he couldn't read you at all, "If I need you, I'll tell you. Save your pity for the weak." His blue eyes looked at you as if they were binding you to his word as he looked out of the corner of his eye.

"Sherlock!" A voice came from an alleyway to the right of you both, it seemed that he recognised it as he moved towards it quickly. Breaking his gaze from you to greet a man with salt and pepper hair happily. _Woah_, you thought, _he must like this man as much as he does John to greet him like this. Even I don't get greetings like this!_

"What have we got then?" Sherlock asked, excitement showing through his eyes and body. He really must love his work to feel this excited, and yet this excitement made you feel as if your own wasn't that bad anymore. It made you feel slightly comforted, even if he hadn't introduced you to his colleague yet.

It seemed the man that the detective was so fond of had noticed you and wanted a reason as to why the hell you were there, "Um Sherlock, before we get to all the gory business...who's this?" His glance shifted to you as he asked the question. Sherlock followed the mans question and turned, his coat swooshing behind him.

His eyes seemed to light up at the fact that you were there with him, as if he had forgotten why you were there before, "Ah! This is _, _ _. She's my assistant for tonight, I hope you don't mind?" That was when the puppy dog eyes seemed to kick in. You had never seen something so adorable before! Especially on a man who was in his mid-thirties (you assumed he was in his mid thirties, he had never actually told you)

"Of course, I haven't stopped you before have I?" he then turned to you, "I'm Lestrade by the way, pleasure to meet you _." He held out his hand for you to shake, smile and all. You returned the gesture with the warmest smile you could muster.

Sherlock was fidgeting behind Lestrade, almost jumping on the spot, "can we get to the dead body now?" He was like a little child with the way he was acting but his demeanor immediately changed as soon as he saw the scene laid out before him. The magnifying glass whipped out and he was straight to work. This was the first time you had really seen him in action and it was amazing.

The body was mauled into an inch of oblivion, guts and gore everywhere, you were sure nobody would be able to get anything from such a crime. You were wrong, "Business man, in a lot of debt to someone...ahem...well." he seemed uncomfortable with that deduction so he moved on, "Divorced twice, on his third engagement by now and by the looks of it, someone was after him. This isn't the work of a serial killer or a one off murderer."

"Well who was it then?" Lestrade asked, his brow furrowed and arms crossed. He seemed so used to Sherlock and all his deductions by now that he didn't even want to question them by now, he just wanted to get straight to the facts. You wanted that too but unfortunately for Lestrade you were a little too curious for your own good.

"An assasin, and by going by the look on your face _, you want to know how the hell I knew any of that." He said standing up and turning to face you. He started to walk towards you pointing out things along the way as he explained the deductions he had made, "Look at the footprints, what do they say to you? Business man by the soles of them but there isn't any mud or anything coming off from them as it would do on this ground so he obviously got into a taxi straight from work instead of going to his usual route here. Why does he come here often? An alleyway as rough as this? To meet with someone he regularly sees but can't talk to in public without seeming odd, loan shark. This time it was different, someone else came instead of his regular person. The Assasin. You can tell by the immediate struggle, fingernail scratches and the footsteps of the man being dragged backwards. It was then that the attacker strapped something on him and handcuffed him to the dumpster, presumeably a small bomb. Only powerful enought to kill him and do minor damage to the surrounding buildings. Oh and he was on his third marriage because what business man isn't these days?"

You stood in awe at it, this was amazing. He had gotten every detail of the incedent exact except for one thing and that was apparent from his next sentence, "we're looking for a man Lestrade, be careful, he's a trained and very good assasin."

How wrong he was. You snapped out of your gorming state when Lestrade tugged on your sleeve, "Are you okay? Have you never seen him do that before?" You shook your head slowly, closing your mouth that had inevitably dropped open. "it's understandable, It really is amazing." he then turned to Sherlock letting go of your sleeve to let you think about what the hell you had just heard, "Thanks Sherlock, this was a big help. I could hardly tell anything from this!"

"Well that' because you're an idi-"

"So if you wouldn't mind," the Inspector cut him off swiftly, "could you leave it to us now, It was nice to see you again."

"Sure," He looked a little miffed at Lestrade's quipped tone but he obeyed nonetheless, going for your hand to lead you off. Your heart jumped a little when he grabbed for it, "We're leaving now _, bye Lestrade." He sounded upset, you hoped nothing was wrong.

"Are you okay Sherlock?" You asked him as he led you off from the crime scene quickly and quietly.

"I'm fine," he said almost too quietly fot you to hear as he was turned away from you. You didn't believe him but you decided to drop it as he didn't seem too happy about the subject being brought up. He looked as if he just wanted to forget. You weren't quite sure what he wanted to forget though. Was it Lestrade...or something else?

"Keep her Sherlock, she's a good un' " the Inspector shouted after you two, it was then that you saw Sherlock blush. It seemed that he couldn't stop it this time, it also seemed that he couldn't stop you from seeing as the sun had now risen and the streetlights couldn't mask it anymore. You didn't mind it though, it made him seem a little more human and made you feel much more relaxed around him because he didn't seem so machine like anymore. It also sparked some thoughts inside your head that you'd thought you'd never have again after...

"Ah Sherlock?" You were now blushing too and your palm was starting to sweat, you were thankful that he couldn't tell because he was wearing his gloves.

"Yes?"

"Could you let go of my hand now?" You seemed shy now, not entirely wanting to ask, it felt nice, his hand in yours.

"Oh yes," he abruptly moved his hand away looking a little embarrased himself, "Should we get a taxi?" He then asked to break the awkward silence after a few moments. You nodded as you both reached the main road, he waved a hand to the nearest approaching taxi and you two were soon on your way back to 221b.


	5. Chapter 5 - Distractions

Ever since the investigation you two went on together the thought of what you were doing when you were alone kept running through that baffling man's head. It was as if he just couldn't switch off his thoughts anymore, the irritating ones at least. Especially if you were in the room with him. You always had a distracting air about you, a mysetry to be solved. Unfortunately for him you distracted him so much that it was like he had to puzzle you out before he could do anything else.

He gave up, "get out." It was an order directed to you, who was quite peacefully reading a book at that point in time so you had no idea what he was talking about, but it also surprised you that he had talked at all. He just couldn't handle your distractions anymore, you on the other hand found his direction alarmingly rude.

"Why?" your brow furrowed you placed the book down carefully. You wanted to question him, he'd been in an odd mood like this since after the crime scene he'd shown off to you at. He'd never been this bad before, yes he had his arseholeish tendencies but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. Within reason of course; it wasn't as if you hadn't dealt with people like this before because you had many, many times. That also seemed to come with your job, total dickwads who thought you were a helpless little girl who needed to be rescued. Those who actually voiced those opinions however are no longer with us. Regrettably.

This particular arsehole however was neither scared of you or had underestimated you, and yet he still ordered you around like you were a lost dog. It seemed that he had forgotten that half of this apartment was paid for by you and you weren't just squatting in his living space, "get out." he repeated simply.

You decided to obey it was the best thing you could do as it seemed that he just wouldn't listen to reason, "Okay, but," he rolled his eyes to heaven when the 'but' came into your sentence, you tried to ignore it, "only if you answer my question." He seemed not too happy about that but he nodded his head and muttered something you couldn't hear, it sounded like it was said in an agreeable manner so you continued, "why do you keep staring at me?"

"I-uh..." it seemed that the oh so clever and sharp tongued detective was lost for words...or not, "You're extremely distracting, you know that?" He sounded exasperated as if your conversation right now was making him give a lot of effort to it causing his brain to hurt, "If you're in the room I just can't focus, your presence is overwhelming."

You weren't used to people being so truthful it was close to an alien experience for you. No one ever talked to you like that except when they were bringing bad news, you learnt that the hard way. You were usually the cause of the bad news so it made no difference really. It was always bad no matter the circumstances so this took you back a little. Your first day of school, your parents were so proud of you, making new friends. Finally learning, that was the last time they'd ever said they loved you. The last time they had ever told you the truth. It was the last ever kind truth you'd heard until today, and you weren't entirely sure if this truth was good or not. It seemed on the fence. Indifferent, and you liked that. You didn't have to jusge it, it wasn't there for you to judge it

"You don't have to leave you know, it'd just be helpful. I really want to slove this case," he said sincerely. There it was, that honesty again. You couldn't help but agree and leave picking up your cup of tea and book. You had gone silent, just like the obidient little dog you were. Woof woof! Waiting for the next order just so you could get a new treat. You hated yourself for being so weak and not being able to think for yourself but you wouldn't let this break you. Not today, otherwise the people you had started to get close to might get hurt. You walked off to your room leaving him behind.

It was much later in the day when you got back from your little adventure, which took place in your room obviously (Nowhere else suspicious, what are you talking about?!), that you heard a banging on your door that didn't sound all that pleasant. It was Sherlock and he sounded frantic, "_! _, are you in there? Can you hear me?" you gave a heavy sigh and started to change quickly, it wouldn't do for you to not change out of this outfit and open the door just for him to see you like this. He might start to suspect something.

"I'm coming, just wait a sec!" you called out you had no idea how long he'd been slamming on the door like that but thank god he hadn't tried to knock it down, otherwise he'd see that you were gone and most definately not in your room. It was not to your advantage however that one of your boots would not come off no matter how hard you pulled. You eventually gave up after a lot of grunting and whining, it was no use, that shoe was stuck on there for good. You decided to let him in.

"Hello Sherlock what can I help you wi-" You got cut off by a rather heavy (for his frame) man falling on top of you as he was leaning against the door. "Oof!" you landed on the floor with a very unhappy looking detective staring at you whilst lying, rather uncomfortably, on top of you. Oh how you wished this was in different circumstances!

"I've been knocking on your door for ten minutes, why didn't you answer?" he was frowning now, eyes scanning your face as if he was still trying to figure you out, but the pieces weren't all there for him to put in place. Yet.

"I had my headphones in, now will you get off me?" you gave him a shove and he rolled over to your side. You were panting a little, there were multiple reasons as to why. 1) it wasn't everyday that your roommate landed on top of ypu (who happened to be quite attractive but you would never admit that) and 2) you had just run back here from about twenty minutes away so who could blame you? You'd just done a considerable amount of exercise. "What did you want anyway?" you questioned, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Our assasin has made another move! Another victim has been found!" his eyes lit up as he jumped up into action and offered a hand for you to take. You had started to think he got a thrill out of things like this. You took it and helped yourself up but not without a little wince, oh how youu wish human instict wasn't so strong. especially in old people, they were the most vicious, "A warehouse this time, woman who's retired. No proper connections to the criminal underworld but you never know! Now come on lets go!" he rushed off down the corridor like an excited little boy.

"Is it okay if I don't tag along this time?" you called out after him and he froze, his shoulders sagging. It was if he wanted you to come along, surely he mustn't get that lonely? Maybe he just needed a friend so he wasn't the only freak out there.

"Okay," and with that he left. The flat seemed very very empty without him in it. It was odd, you didn't like it, he was a constant there. Never leaving except for cases and meeting John (and possibly Mary, if that was even her name) but it was as if he was the soul of the flat itself and if he left so did the life of the building. If he left so did 221b in a way. And that made you sad.

You decided to put that thought away and out of your mind and get this horrible shoe off. It was starting to get annoying.


	6. Chapter 6 - Blood Eagle

All these distractions were not helping his deduction skills. His mind was wrapped around the mystery and puzzle of you and it seemed to him that the crime scene reeked of you. It was as if everything he did or saw reminded him of you. He was currently trying _not_ to think of you, but yet again Sherlock Holmes seemed to be losing control very very slowly on what he let into his head and what he could get out of it. You did not seem to make an exception.

Everytime he turned a corner to find some information in his mind palace, you were there. Smiling the same as ever, a little bit nervous but still you. And that was the most infuriating thing about it, it was all _you_! Everywhere he went and he hated it, the only other person who was like this with him was the woman and he couldn't deduce a damn thing about her! So what the hell was going on with you?

He pushed all of the doubts out of his mind and tried to focus, if you wouldn't go away even when you weren't there he had to just put up with you whether he liked it or not. And he wasn't at all sure whether he _did_ like it or not. He shook his head, curls bouncing, as if it would help to get you out of his mind. It didn't.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" Lestrade's voice seemed to cut through the fog in his mind and dragged him back to the surface of reality. He looked at him a little blankly as if he was talking gibberish. Well he usually was, but that was beside the point.

"I'm sorry what?" His eyes had slightly glazed over, he just was not himself. Maybe your presence wasn't so distracting after all. Perhaps it even _helped_ to focus him, not the reverse. That would explain why he felt like he missed you all of a sudden.

"Are you high?" Lestrade frowned, looking into the young man's eyes, he didn't look like he was on drugs, physically of course. There weren't any of the tell tale signs but you could never know wtih Sherlock, he was expertly skilled at hiding things he didn't want to be seen. But there was something a little off about him. He needed to ask the question anyway because last time he seemed perfectly normal before and then ended up in a drug den. And that was not a pretty sight to see, even after all the times Lestrade had seen him high. That was the worst.

"What?! Yes I'm fine, just a little..." he trailed off not really wanting to admit that he couldn't concentrate at the crime at hand so he went back to the dead body in front of him, "So this is exactly the same as before?" he looked up at Lestrade as he bent down to look at the exploded body a little more closely.

"Well yes but this time the explosion didn't do the same sort of damage as before so we could actually see how they died this time." He said slowly, hoping what he said actually went into Sherlock's head this time.

"So the explosion didn't kill the last one?" Sherlock looked confused, were his deductions wrong from last time? This surely couldn't happen again, not after all the embarassing things he said last time he got it all wrong.

"No, they seemed to maul the body first." Sherlock's brow furrowed even further so Lestrade continued, a little exasperated that the detective hadn't picked up on it yet, he really wasn't himself "They performed a blood eagle, you know? Like the vikings did? No well okay then... The vikings used to break their victims ribs next to the spine, pull them up and pull out the lungs through the back to reseble that of wings. Understand?" Sherlock nodded and gulped, he had no idea that they were dealing with such a sadistic killer, he'd never dealt with something like this before. these muders were the things that you hardly ever saw anymore and were just on Tv shows that always over-dramatises things "This is what we're dealing with so if come up with anything, just let me know okay?"

Sherlock nodded again, all distraction gone out of his head now, he could only focus on the images in his head of how the murder must have taken place. They must have had this done when they were still alive, screaming for help, screaming in pain for no one to hear them and have them be killed mercilessly. Without regret. He couldn't quite place why they had exploded the body though, it was odd. Surely if they were to perform something so elaborate they would wish for it to be seen by everyone? Be on the news, give a warning to everyone. Or maybe it was someone else who exploded the bodies? Or something else...

He couldn't figure it out and the distractions of you were starting to creep back. Why wouldn't you just leave you annoying it was starting to get annoying. He was slightly grateful for them however, it meant that he didn't have to focus on the brutal killing he had just witnessed, even if it were only in his head, it still had a strong effect on him. I mean imagine going through something like that? You must be truly twisted to do something like this, find pleasure in it even. It was if he could get inside of the killers head, he didn't necessarily like that. He felt as if he had been turned into Will Graham and Jack Crawford was just using him as he got closer and closer to the actual killer by accident. He shook his head to get the thought out and let the enigma that was you creep back in. You were comforting at least, something constant. Something normal. And with that he left the crime scene to Lestrade and Anderson to sort out. Even if Anderson was untrustworthy with forensic things. Sherlock was quite surprised that he was even allowed back into Scotland Yard, after all he did to put doubt into other peoples minds about him and being a 'fraud'.

You had just started to relax in the bathtub when you heard the front door slam, "Sherlock must be back then," you muttered to yourself not really to anyone as no one was there, not really, allowing your body to sink further into the bubbles. This was your relaxing time and you weren't going to allow anything to stop that. Even if Sherlock decided to storm in here and have a piss or mess up the house so much it looked like a bomb had hit it, you would just ignore him and continue on your way through your book. It was a good book you had to admit so you didn't really want any distractions from it.

Instead he knocked on the door lightly, almost so lightly you didn't hear it, "Sherlock?" you called out, it kind of made you a little worried that he was so quiet after all of his excitement before he went off, he was so happy, "do you want to talk?"

"No, can I just come in?" His question took you aback a bit, you certainly weren't expecting that, you thoguht he had strict rules about things like privacy and such, "Just pull the shower curtain across, I wont look." You obliged and pulled it across quietly also putting your book down you called for him to come in.

"Are you okay?" You sounded worried.

"Yeah I'm fine, I just need to focus," he said without any explination as to why he needed to be in the bathroom to do that. Seemed you'd just started talking anyway.

"Any reason why you're here then?" you asked a little exasperated at his actions, surely if he needed to focus he would be able to just do it in another room? He _did_ say that your presence was distracting and that you needed to be in another room entirely for him to be able to concentrate even one incy little bit. You had to admit though that you were a little confused by his next statement.

"I can't focus on anything else unless you're near me," there was that truth again, you weren't entirely sure if you'd ever get used to that, even years after you had known him.

"Okay..." you eyebrows knitted together you were pretty sure he just contradicted himself from mere hours before, "wait, anything else? Else from what?" he hadn't mentioned what had been distracting him from focusing before, so surely it must be something pretty important? Something he couldn't get out of his thoughts...

"You, you're distracting me," he really needed to stop doing that, he'd made you go red in face. Again, and you were so grateful in that moment that the shower curtain was in between you both so he couldn't see how embarassed he had made you.

"But I don't understand," as flattered as you were you were still confused, "How can my presence be distracting and then change to helping you focus on other things in a matter of less than a day?" You had to admit, even to a great mind like yours, it was odd.

"I don't know, I honestly don't know," you peeked around the edge of the curtain to find Sherlock with his head in his hands. _He really is confused isn't he? _"I wanted to ask you something anyway," he raised his head to look at you, his expression now serious. He looked like he was going to a funeral with that face, "Would you be able to come on a case with me tomorrow?"

You nodded, agreeing a little reluctantly but wanting to help him all the same, "What sort of case?" Surely it couldn't be the same one from today? _Must be a new one,_ you thought.

"Ah well, is it okay if John and Mary accompany us? It's more than a two man job see? And uh..." You nodded understanding, he seemed a little nervous about asking, this wasn't like him. He was usually straight to the point and direct this was...unusual for him and you weren't at all sure if you liked it all that much. He continued, "It's at a restaurant, I'm investigating whether the owner is poisining his high up guests for money as well as blackmailing them."

"Sherlock that sounds great, now would you mind if I got out of the bath now? It's just that i'm getting a little wrinkley here," you laughed a little to ease the tension, it seemed to work because you got a smile out of him at least, "Now turn around." You directed him and he followed, he was a little like a puppy now that you thought about it. Bouncy and playful but also obidient.

He heard you step out of the bath and it made him slightly nervous. He never got like this in front of anyone, anyone! Not even the woman, he was just trying to impress her not be nervous and blushing like a schoolboy! So why were you so different from everyone else? He decided to stop thinking about those things, which he surprisingly able to do, and keep talking to you. Talking to you focused him anyway so that was a plus, maybe it was the not talking to you which made him so distracted by you. Maybe it was because he wasn't asking you questions was the reason that you made him so curious? Because he didn't know hardly anything about you? "You'll have to wear a dress." he said as if he was warning you, it also sounded like you were towelling off now. He had only said it in that tone however because he wasn't sure if you had any fresses, he'd only seen you in skirts and trousers before. \not that you didn't look nice in them, he just wanted you to look...formal.

"I realise that Sherlock, I'm not stupid," you laughed a little at him as you got dressed quickly, putting a towel on your head, "you can turn back around now."

"Right, well." he cleared his throat as he turned to face you, "shall we say seven?"

"Sure but I mean it's not as if we're not going to see each other in the day so it doesn't really matter does it?" you questioned him, giving a lopsided grin.

"I guess you're right, shall we?" he pointed to the door and you opened it after his direction. It was then at that moment when you walked past him. The moment he saw you, smelt you, felt you that he knew. He was starting to have human error and he wasn't sure if he was ready for it, let alone prepared. He should have seen this coming, it was all so obvious and yet, you'd lured him so far into your trap that he had no idea how to escape.


	7. Chapter 7 - Dinner and Letting slip

Turns out you weren't the only one nervous about tonight. Sherlock was too, and that was evident by how he was avoiding you compulsively all day, You'd never seen him like this. You didn't like it, why was he so nervous about a case anyway? What you didn't understand though was why Sherlock wanted you to come with him, you didn't really see why you needed to come along at all. You didn't have any deductions skills, that you knew of (something surprising could happen, you never know), and you hadn't been all that pleasant towards you roommate. Seeing as you too had been avoiding him, it hadn't been a very nice experience for either of you. He hand#t been that pleasant either to be perfectly honest but that was beside the point. Perhaps it wasn't even a case, maybe he just didn't want to be third wheeling with John and Mary. But then wouldn't that class as you both butting in on their date? Wait, what if there was no case at all?! What if this was a double date?!...Nah! What were you thinking? Why would Sherlock would never have an interest in you, you said so yourself before. He could never have an interest in someone like you.

Especially after you being an absolute idiot just before you were supposed to get ready for the dinner. You were in your room, deciding which dress to wear (turns out you owned more than even you thought you had, let alone Sherlock's estimation: none.) when you heard voices, well more exactly Sherlock's voice,but it sounded as if he were on the phone talking to someone. You decided to have a peak out of your room and ask him why he was talking so urgently. He did sound stressed. But something stopped you, you weren't too sure. maybe it was the fact that he had his back to you, or maybe it was the now hushed tone of his voice which wasn't like before. It must have been one of those factors but you didn't ask him, your instincts turned on and you slunk into the shadows.

"Yes John she doesn't know I'm sure, I told her it was a case. What do you mean that isn't moral?" What? What on earth did he mean by that? His morals or...what? You heard muffling on the other end of the line, it must be John speaking. You shuffled down the corridor a little more, just so you could get a better look. His back was still turned, that was a small relief for you but you still didn't understand what he was on about, was it about tonight?

"No John, I'm just going to observe her tonight that's all, of course I have a case but I felt that it would be best for her to accompany me," pause, "You know? Killing two birds with one stone?" another pause, "Look I solve the case and see if she's up to the job." More mumbling on the end of the line and then, "you know what job I'm talking about, don't be so stupid." And with that he put the phone down.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. This was odd. Your heart was fluttering and those goddamn butterflies were back in your stomach and seemed to be determined on not leaving this time. Why wouldn't they just do what they were told? Damn emotions. You decided to creep back to your room quickly and quietly and think through what you'd just overheard. What you didn't see coming though was the bump in the carpet that ultimately caused you a lot of embarrassment. You tripped, fell flat on your face and unfortunately drew the attention of the one person you didn't want to notice you. So much for your instincts.

"_? Is that you? Are you okay?" Thank god you weren't wearing a skirt that day.

"Yeah I'm fine," you said, groaning slightly as you tried to sit up, you had seemed to have twisted your ankle. Not badly, which was good, but it still hurt. It should recover soon though.

"What are you doing out here anyway? I thought you were getting ready?" he looked confused as you brushed yourself off and turned to look up at him.

"I was getting myself a drink but decided I didn't need it as I heard you talking on the phone. It sounded quite important so I thought it best not for me to interrupt," you said, holding your chin up to him as if you'd done nothing wrong. It was mostly so he wouldn't suspect anything of you. You were sure the body language would help.

"What did you hear?" His eyes looked frantic, of course you knew why but you wouldn't tell him that. Especially since he had referred to you as an error in his life so many times before. How rude of him.

"Just a lot of whispering to be honest but you sounded stressed so I left it, or at least tried to" you sounded as casual as you could possibly get, laid back almost. Damn you were good at this lying game.

"Right well, you only have an hour to get ready so..." he trailed off as you looked at him blankly, still basking in the light of your lie. It was a good one (even I'll have to agree).

You snapped back rather quickly, realising the pause was getting a little too long to be comfortable, "ah yes, well...ahem...see you then!" and so you rushed down the corridor to go and finally decide on a dress whilst Sherlock tried to figure out if you had actually told the truth or if you were more like the woman than he had expected.

You emerged exactly an hour later, you thought you looked alright but you could never be sure. You were almost Sherlock would make a snide remark about how your hair wasn't in the right position or how you'd spent too much time on your eyeliner for it to actually look good any longer. But in fact he did no such thing.

"You look rather nice," he said simply as he turned around to face you.

"As do you," you decided to return the complement as it seemed only customary but he did infact look very dashing. You felt that it must have been something about the tie he was wearing that made him look so different. It was a good sort of different though.

You arrived to the restaurant in good time 7:24, your table was booked for half past. It also turned out that the Watson's were already here. This made sure that you didn't have to cope with any awkward conversations between you and the consulting detective. Thank god. You seemed to be thanking God a lot recently, not normal.

"Hello again," John greeted you warmly, holding his hand out again for you to shake, "We met before but didn't really have a chance to talk, _ was it?"

"Ah yes, It's nice to see you and Mary again, it's like a breath of fresh air seeing you two after living with that," you jabbed a finger at you accomplice who was currently frowning at your remark and looking not at all pleased.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," John chuckled a little and then offered to get you drinks after you had sat down and made yourself comfortable next to Mr. Holmes. Whilst John had left, Sherlock not soon after as he decided he should go and help bring them over as they would be from the bar and needed to be carried. You and Mary had decided to start to talk, at least to break the tension.

"So what are you doing living with funny old Sherlock?" Mary smiled at you sincerely, if she was being like this around you when no one else was around then surely she didn't know about...that. Maybe she wasn't who you thought she was, maybe she was just a simple nurse who worked along side her husband nicely in a comfortable life. You decided to go with the latter option just because it sounded a lot less uncomfortable to deal with and a much easier story to swallow. Even though it may not exactly be the real one.

"Well my mother's in hospital for terminal cancer see and I thought it be best to move down here to keep an eye on her, Sherlock seemed the best option because he had the lowest rent for this part of London. it is a bit of effort putting up with his experiments!" You and her both chuckled a little about that. "So what's the baby? Boy or Girl?"

" Oh I'm so sorry to hear that and it's a Girl," she said smiling, happy that she had a new girl friend to talk to about baby stuff finally instead of her husband and other nurses. Sherlock seemed to have refused to go anywhere near that subject, it was like poison to him he had said.

"Aww that's so sweet, have you come up with any names yet?" you wondered, completely forgetting about the men that seemed to be arriving back to your table with drinks in hand.

Mary seemed to notice otherwise, "Ah John, _ was just asking about our baby names, any ideas?"

"Well we thought Alice might be quite nice," he said setting the drinks down quickly and sitting down himself before Sherlock had to be so rude and cut in.

"I think it would be best if we got on to a better topic and actually got on to why we're here in the first place." He gave a sarcastic smile to all of you which all of you returned with a frown, of course he was oblivious to all that, "Any ideas yet _? What do you think of the owner?"

This seemed like a test and little did you know it was, Sherlock would never admit it, not even later on in both of your lives, but he may have been rooting for you because if you didn't he was sure he would loose all interest in you. And nobody really wanted that did they? "Well, he's a balding man, late fifties, married twice and he seems to be..." you squinted trying to get a better look at the man about twenty yards away on the other side of the room, "trying to feel up one of the barmaids."

"Okay..." the man next to you sounded a little bit disappointed, maybe you hadn't looked hard enough to impress him, "But is he poisoning his guests?" he was looking at you now, but you didn't you had to look. To figure him out.

"Yes, I mean look at him he's got the symbol of The Arena on his necklace of course he's killing off his rich clients, who wouldn't?" Shit. You may have just given away a game changer. Quick cover up, cover up!

"The Arena? Isn't that that gang who gave a lot of trouble up in Manchester a few years back?" John asked before taking a sip of his martini. Perhaps he was the only cover up you needed, thank you for John Watson.

"Uh yes, my brother used to be in the police up there so i used to hear a lot of stuff about them," phew panic over, panic over. Truth was that you actually knew a lot about them for other reasons but you'd never reveal that, not if you didn't have to. It would mean that you'd then have to tell everything to everyone, and that would jeopardise your job.

"Right well Sherlock, shouldn't you be getting on with the case then?" John seemed to be prompting Sherlock or something but he didn't seem to get the hint. You were just thoroughly confused, John continued, "Sherlock wasn't here just to observe that man over there tonight."

"What? There's another case?" Your eyebrows knitted and you tried to understand, he hadn't said anything about another case so what was John on about? Surely he would have told you if he had something else to observe?

"That case was just a six but I've heard that the other case is easily an eleven, especially after what just happened," you looked over to the detective who seemed to have gone a little red. None of this was adding up, what could be more interesting than this case? And how come it was only a six? You thought it was quite interesting. You'd heard of Sherlock's ranking system for his cases but you had never heard of an eleven before so this must be quite special for him to see it that high. Very special indeed.

"Sherlock?" You asked quietly.

"_, he was observing you, you're the other case," John said just as quietly, revealing it all. The detective was still avoiding eye contact with you. Just like he had been doing so the whole day, and this was the reason? Your head buzzed, the butterflies had returned and your cheeks rose to a pink colour. This was cut off however by a shrill beeping coming from your dress pocket. A text. Shit. Not now, anytime but now.

You read it, "I'm so so sorry, I've got to go." You rushed about collecting your coat and bag, "We'll talk about this later okay? I'm so sorry, and I'll make this up to you okay?" And with that you left, to work. Limping on your ankle that would surely inconvenience you later but you left nonetheless. Your foot wouldn't be the only thing that would be distracting you from your work, just the same as Sherlock just a day before.


	8. Chapter 8 - Avoidence

You weren't obsessed with psychopaths, no. You were merely fascinated by them. That may have been why you were so eager to pick up the job of observing Mr. Holmes, he did claim to be a sociopath after all. Of course you had your normal work to attend to, but that was boring compared to the wonderful man you had the pleasure of watching on a daily basis. With insults of course but that seemed mandatory considering his narcissistic nature. You had unfortunately become less interested in watching him after that dinner. It' wasn't just the fact that he was observing you but it also seemed that he didn't hold those qualities of a sociopath or a psychopath. He could sympathise, empathise, he didn't play with people's emotions and so all in all he was quite boring by your standards. Because of this now lack of interest, all for the reason he wasn't psychotic, you had no longer the desire to speak to the man. In fact you were actually trying to avoid him. It was also because of the observing but the interest being lost also played a part. Unsuccessfully of course considering you were living with him in the same apartment, but you tried your best. Picking up even more assignments than before, locking yourself in your room or hiding in the bathroom. It all seemed normal after a week but he just didn't want to leave you alone. He was beginning to have almost an obsession with you. It was...uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Go away," you said for the fifteenth time from inside of your bedroom. You had had to wedge the door shut with your wardrobe because Sherlock had seemed so adamant in talking to you that he had removed all locks from inside of the flat, just so you couldn't lock yourself away from him for such long periods. He must really have an uncontrollable need. He hadn't however considered the fact of how useful heavy furniture could be when trying to keep people away and out of sight. You however had.

"No," he persisted. He was currently sitting at the base of your door, he hadn't really caught on to the reason on why you were avoiding him. It confused him. You were so kind to him, perhaps even what he classed as one of his friends. And then as soon as you heard that he was observing you, of all things, the thing that he did to everyone else on a daily basis, you turned your back. Tried to ignore his very existence, that was not only rude but also very childish. Your cold shoulder wasn't the only thing that hurt him though, it was also the fact that you wouldn't even acknowledge that he wanted to explain. Just for the sole reason that he observed you you tried to push him away. Surely you of all people should realise that that was normal? For him at least, it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Why? I obviously don't want to speak to you, or see you, can't you see that?" Well that was the most words you had said to him in over a week. He was impressed. Maybe your strop was wearing off, or it could just be a fluke. You could never tell.

"I can see that but I do wish very much so to speak with you," he said, sounding exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on, nicotine patches would be needed. At least two. This was getting to the level of annoyance that he possibly wouldn't be able to handle without drugs.

"And why is that? Why don't you just leave me alone and give up?" You too sounded exasperated, but in an entirely different way. It seemed that you hadn't been to the bathroom for a considerable amount of time because of the man outside of your door. Unfortunately, this was having a bad affect on your bladder capacity. You were particularly afraid of having to pee in the bin in the corner of your room. Things were getting drastic.

"Because I want to know why you're ignoring me, don't I at least deserve an explanation?" He tried to reason, he felt that he needed, or had earned that. Regrettably though he was never good with people skills. It was always so stressful to be nice to people. Especially to those he liked, he just seemed all the more ruder to those close to him. It was a very inconvenient habit.

"I guess so," you mumbled quietly, you were surprised that he had even heard it. You were hoping he hadn't.

"Are you going to tell me then?" He questioned, you could now hear the well hidden annoyance in his voice seeping through. Maybe you should tell him, but then you'd be exposed. And nobody wanted that. Hopefully he didn't either.

"Okay," you took a deep breath as Sherlock readied himself for the reason, he hoped it would be a good one. He was not disappointed, "I've always had trouble with people looking at me, unpicking my every move. Ever since I was a kid I've had Doctors, Psychiatrists, people in general, poking around in my head. I just don't want anyone in there anymore, they might see something they don't enjoy. Something that they would rather have not seen."

He paused to think, he knew what it felt like to be looked at as a freak and nothing else. How it felt to feel branded with names that weren't your own and that were only placed there to hurt you. How it felt to dig up memories you had rather repressed. "I wasn't trying to observe you in that way. I'd already done that when we met-"

"Oh well that makes me feel much better," you said sarcastically, tears welling up in your eyes. Why were you crying now of all times? Why would your body never do as it's told, always malfunctioning. This was the worst of times to happen. Why did he have to be here, even if there was a wardrobe between you. You did not want him to see you like this, he'd just taunt you relentlessly afterwards. You tried to suppress your sobs so that he wouldn't hear. You knew he had anyway but you tried nonetheless. Perhaps you could at least keep a part of your dignity still intact.

"Thats not what I meant, why do emotions always have to be so candescent? Never relenting once they've reared their ugly heads. Emotions are such a burden," it sounded like he was speaking to himself but you at the same time. Why did he have to talk in such riddles? That man would never become clear to you, never. Even when you two would become at your closest he would always seem a mystery to you, as you were to him.

"I know what you mean, as soon as you start to feel an emotion you can't get rid of it. Mostly with those that you didn't even want in the first place," you sighed, how on earth did this conversation become this? You weren't even supposed to be having this conversation. You had forbidden yourself, it was for the best. You shouldn't be talking to him. And yet your mouth didn't seem to be listening to you. "The same goes for thoughts, as soon as they come into your head, you can't get rid of them. They're planted and then they grow. They grow until you become paranoid and the thought overcomes you so much, it becomes you. Unless you act upon them of course, that's always the best solution to get rid of thoughts and feelings. Acting."

"Yes, that's what I was trying to achieve by observing you," he said confusing you slightly. What on earth did he mean?

"I don't understand, how can observation be an action? Surely you would need to voice those observations?" You were thinking out loud, doing as you had just thought.

"True, but I never got around to that acting part that I intended to do," he admitted. He hadn't realised but he had been biting his fingernails again, old habits die mainly did this when he was highly strung like he was now. He felt that he needed those nicotine patches soon, he wasn't sure if he'd last much longer considering he didn't have many nails left to bite. Some of them were even bleeding now. He really needed to remember himself when things like this happened, calm himself.

"And what action would you have taken if I hadn't left so abruptly?" You questioned, it seemed to take him a while for him to answer. As if he were carefully planning out his answer. As if he hadn't done so he would most surely hurt your feelings.

"I would have done something that I would have called drastic, bearing in mind I was acting upon my emotions and not my thoughts. Which I personally feel is an error in human nature, mine especially." He seemed to stop after that, not really wanting to voice his observations after all.

You had to prompt him, "Go on."

Another pregnant pause, "I would have asked if you would wish to be in a relationship with me, one further than friendship," All of his nails were now bleeding and he now knew why, he was worried for your feelings. And now he felt that he didn't really want to know if those feelings were returned anymore.

"I see," you said calmly although that was not what was going on in your head at that current moment. Blood was rushing through you head and you could feel it pumping through your ears. Your stomach churned, butterflies no longer contained to a certain extent, but feeling as if a whole wave of them were upon you. A tsunami tide. Your knees felt weak from where you were standing facing the door and you could no longer stand properly. You clutched to the wall. Why was this mention of feelings having such an adverse affect on you? Perhaps it was because it was such a long time after such a horrible relationship that you felt that you could no longer be loved. By anyone. Let alone a man like Sherlock Holmes. But maybe, just maybe it would take a Sherlock Holmes to love you.

"_? Are you okay?" Sherlock asked from the other side of the door, it had been a little longer than you realised from when you had last talked. Ten minutes to be exact. Your perception of time had never been that good, even when you were most aware.

"Y-yes, just a little...overwhelmed," You said now sitting on the floor, your mind completely blank. How were you supposed to react? How did normal people react to situations like this? You didn't know, you had never dealt with something like this before. It was all a bit new because all of your previous relationships just kind of...happened. So you were a novice at things like this, as was the man who had just asked you for such a thing.

"Uh, can I come in?" He asked after another pause that seemed to consume more time than you were aware of.

"N-no, I need to think," it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't quite the truth either. You could never get the hang of being completely truthful.

"Oh okay, well can I have an answer, at least an 'I don't know'? I wanted to tell you myself that I was observing you but John had to ruin it," he was trying to joke but you couldn't hear him anymore, you were changing. Another text had come through. Urgent, you needed to go.

"I'll think about it," you had actually made up your mind of what would happen between you two by then, but you would never tell him that, perhaps a few years into your relationship but not now.

And yet again, you made a quick exit. These were becoming regular things for you and Sherlock wasn't exactly sure if he liked it considering it always seemed to be on his account. You would tell him your answer later, if you didn't decide to ignore him again. But he would just have to wait and see.


End file.
